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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27101161">10 Things I Hate About You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harley_Sunday/pseuds/Harley_Sunday'>Harley_Sunday</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>10 Things I Hate About You (1999), Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-09 04:28:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,699</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27101161</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harley_Sunday/pseuds/Harley_Sunday</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the RomCom ‘10 Things I Hate About You’ we follow the reader as she tries to win over Bucky Barnes so his best friend can finally go on a date.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bucky Barnes x Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>10 Things I Hate About You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Although this is a reader insert, the reader does have a name (Petra) to keep in theme with the movie/play (Patrick/Petruchio) and because I hate using Y/N, even if it’s just a few times. Also, I know paring Steve &amp; Maria is unconventional, but they’re definitely my guilty-pleasure ship :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Beads of sweat roll down your face at a steady pace, some of them finding their way into your eyes, making it harder for you to see. You’ve long stopped trying to blink them away. It doesn’t matter anyway, muscle memory means you know where the punching bag is even with your eyes closed. Your gloved-up hands hit the bag in a tempo that was too high from the beginning, but you’re stubborn so you keep it up even though your arms are killing you by now. The high tempo helps though, because with every hit you land you feel yourself calm down, the anger with which you entered the gym slowly subsiding. </p><p>That’s the downside of solo-missions, you learned a long time ago, when things go wrong there’s no one to blame but yourself. </p><p>Because even though you technically still are a part of the team, you have come to an agreement with Tony and so he doesn’t include you on the team’s missions anymore. Some of the newer recruits think it’s because you have these mood swings that nobody really knows how to deal with. Others think Tony is playing favourites, letting you go out on your own because you’ve been here for so long already. You always tell them to just ask Tony what happened in Padua a couple of years ago. The gossip usually stops when they do. </p><p>You tell yourself ten more punches, because you’re starting to struggle for breath, but then there’s someone standing next to the bag, clearing their throat to get your attention and so you let your arms drop without too much of a struggle, part of you just relieved the workout is cut short by someone other than yourself because now you don’t have to admit defeat. </p><p>“What did that poor punching bag ever do to you?” Maria asks with a grin, her hands on either side of the bag, stopping it from swinging around.</p><p>By now she should know you’re not one for small talk, so you just shrug, even though the fact that you’re still trying to catch your breath might have something to do with it as well. </p><p>“Fine,” she lets go of the bag and lets her hands rest on her hips, her feet planted firmly on the ground, almost like she’s ready for battle. What she says next tells you she probably is, but with you instead of a shared enemy, “I need you to take Barnes.”</p><p>You just shake your head.</p><p>“Petra-”</p><p>“Maria,” you counter, still breathing heavy. You hold out your hands for her to help you out of your gloves, and watch her sigh at the task at hand, but then she loosens the Velcro and starts pulling on the leather anyway. You look up at her, “You know I don’t do partners,”</p><p>“Oh, I know,” Maria replies with wry smile, dropping your gloves on the floor once she’s pulled them off. She holds out her hands and motions for you to give her yours again, her skilled fingers finding the tape and taking it off before she starts unwrapping your hand wraps.</p><p>“Then why do you even ask?” </p><p>She sighs, her eyes finding yours while she continues to work on your hands, “Do I really need to pull rank on this?”</p><p>“That bad?” you ask, because she’s never done this to you before. Hell, no one has ever done this to you before. </p><p>She shrugs, “Not per se.” There’s a slight smile playing on her lips then, “Not if you just agree.” </p><p>“Maria, I just sort of fucked up an important mission, I’m not in the mood for games." You let out a frustrated sigh and pull your hands back, your left massaging your right, trying to get some feeling back, “Just tell me what you want.”</p><p>=X=X=</p><p>You find her in the otherwise empty kitchen, “Natasha!” </p><p>“Oh shit,” she mutters, mocking you by raising an eyebrow at you as she turns around, “am I in trouble?”</p><p>“Depends,” you growl, now standing next to her. She offers you the cup of coffee she’s just made and you take it with a quiet, “Thank you,” moved by the gesture, until you remember why you’re here. “What-” you start, but then think better of it, “How-” no still not what you were going for. “Why did you-”</p><p>“Come on, use your words,” she grins, taking a sip of her coffee, casually leaning against the counter now because you are sure she already knows why you’re here.</p><p>“What is this about Steve not being allowed to date until Barnes does?” </p><p>“Oh, that.”</p><p>“Yeah, that,” you echo. “I just had Maria Hill come up to me because she wants to ask Steve out on a date but can't until she finds someone who takes Barnes out on a date first.” </p><p>Nat laughs, nodding her head, “Yeah, that is the deal.”</p><p>“But why?”</p><p>She shrugs, “I don’t want Rogers to get hurt. I know all the new recruits are lusting after him, but he needs someone who’s interested in him, you know, not just in this perfect specimen of a human being they think Captain America is.”</p><p>“And he agreed with that?”</p><p>“Who, Steve?” She grins, “Steve likes it when someone else takes the decisions every now and then. So he was more than happy to.”</p><p>“I guess Hill is the perfect candidate then,” you agree before taking a sip of your coffee.</p><p>“Yeah,” Nat agrees.</p><p>“So why don’t you just let her ask him out?” You reach for the sugar that’s on the counter next to the coffee machine because fuck, Nat makes a strong cup of coffee. “Why does Barnes still needs to be included in this narrative? I feel like I’m in ‘The Taming of the Shrew’.”</p><p>She throws you a poignant look, “Because Bucky will never get to go on date otherwise.” A sigh then. “Everyone thinks he’s this bad-tempered assassin you shouldn't go near unless you have a death wish, but he really is a good guy.”</p><p>“Natasha,” you coo, bumping your shoulder into hers, “is that sympathy I hear?”</p><p>“I know him from way back,” she admits easily. “He deserves someone who can see past his tough exterior and appreciate him for who he really is.”</p><p>“And apparently that’s me,” you say with a shrug.</p><p>“Yeah, about that,” she says, putting her now empty cup back on the counter, “how did Hill get you to agree anyway? Did she offer you money?” She gently shoves you then, “Or does she have a dirty little secret she threatened to expose if you didn’t go along with her plan?”</p><p>You just shake your head, not really wanting to share this with Natasha, but knowing all too well she’ll never drop it unless you tell her, and so you almost whisper when you finally admit, “She pulled rank on me. Said to look at it like it was a mission.”</p><p>“She did what?” Nat’s laughing now, punching your upper arm. “She pulled-”</p><p>“-rank on me so I’d take Barnes out on a date?” You nod, “Yeah, she did. Offered to foot the date night bill because as she said, that seems like the fair thing to do.” </p><p>“Well, good for her.” </p><p>=X=X=</p><p>You find him in the gym, just like Maria said you would. Once you agreed to do this she gave you a rundown of his schedule, telling you exactly where you could find him at which time of day. What she didn’t tell you, however, was what you should talk to him about and so here you are, having found him, but not knowing how to start up a conversation. You decide to go with a good old, “Hi.” </p><p>He doesn’t even look up when he answers with a low, “Hey,” instead keeping his attention on the target he’s throwing his knives at.</p><p>Taking a better look at the cut-out figure that’s taped to a dummy hanging from the ceiling you realize the outline reminds you of the Iron Man suit and you wonder what Tony ever did to piss Barnes off so much that he’s now using him for target practice. The dummy’s at least thirty feet away but every knife he throws goes in effortlessly, all hitting centre target. If this whole ‘bad-tempered assassin’ thing really is just an act, you think, well then at least he’s very dedicated to the cause.</p><p>“Barnes?” He doesn’t reply but you continue anyway, “Nat says I have to improve my hand-to-hand combat skills and I figured you might be able to help me out.” Nat never said such a thing, but you figured it’s as good an excuse as any to explain why you’re here.</p><p>He doesn’t reply, keeps on throwing knives instead and it’s then you realize you haven’t actually asked a question yet and so you add, “Would you be able to teach me?”</p><p>“Able?” he echoes, “Yes.”</p><p>“Ok,” you draw out, not sure what his angle is. “And willing?”</p><p>He throws the last knife, but its blade hits the handle of one of the other knives and so it bounces back, landing tip first, wedging itself firmly in between two floor boards. You expect him to curse, or get mad, but instead he just turns to you and shrugs, “Sure.” </p><p>“Eh, ok,” you reply with a surprised smile. “When can we start?”  </p><p>“Well, I doubt you have the same adversity against Stark as I do,” he says with a nod towards the dummy, “so why don’t you spend a day or two making some targets of your own and we’ll meet here on Thursday? Two o’clock?”</p><p>This is the most you’ve heard him say, maybe ever, so for a moment you’re too shocked to reply, but then he’s looking at you like you’re losing it and so you scramble to find your words, nothing but a “Sure,” coming out.</p><p>He nods and walks away and you can swear you can see the hint of a smile tugging on his lips when he turns around and looks back at you over his shoulder before he walks into the locker room. </p><p>=X=X=</p><p>“What are you doing?” </p><p>“Making a target,” you mumble, not looking up from the absolute work of art you’re creating. If you may say so yourself, of course.</p><p>“Huh,” Nat replies, and you see her cross her arms in front of her chest out of the corner of your eye. </p><p>“Oh and by the way,” you say, dipping your brush into the yellow paint again, “you want me to improve my hand-to-hand combat skills in case anyone asks.”</p><p>“Ok,” she draws out slowly, taking a few steps so she’s standing behind you, no doubt eyeing the target you’re working on. </p><p>“I needed an in,” you explain.</p><p>“Sure,” she agrees. </p><p>You look up, because she seems distracted, and find her looking down at you with a worried look. “Nat, it’s fine,” you’re quick to assure her, “it worked.”</p><p>“That’s not-” she starts, but then she seems to change her mind. She nods towards the table, “What the hell did Big Bird ever do to you that you’re now going to use him in target practice?”</p><p>=X=X=</p><p>“Alright, so remember,” he says as he puts his hands on your hips and makes you turn ever so slightly so you’re not facing the target head-on but rather at an angle, “hold the blade when you throw the knife.” </p><p>“Yes, sir,” you say, not even mocking him, just the years of training kicking in. For a moment you wonder who would even outrank who between the two of you, figuring it’s probably him. He’s got more years in the field of course, so he’d definitely hold the higher rank if you were to go by experience alone. </p><p>Shaking your head you try to focus on the task at hand, and you roll your shoulders back so you’re standing a little more upright. It’s like you can hear every teacher you’ve ever had screaming at you in unison, “Posture, Petra!” because more than once people have told you you tend to slouch.   </p><p>You go over everything he’s told you so far, from holding the blade when you throw to finding the balance point of each individual knife before you even think about throwing it. You feel sort of ready but at the same time you worry you’re going to fail miserably. You rely on guns and explosive devices to help you on your missions, not hand-to-hand combat. </p><p>“Ok,” he lets go of your hips and steps aside, “whenever you’re ready.”</p><p>The knife you’re holding seems old, beaten up by years of use, and you wonder if this is the knife he went to war with. It is amazingly balanced and when you grab the tip of the blade between your thumb and index finger the handle rests on your hand comfortably. Taking a deep breath you focus on the target, only ten feet away this time because you convinced him to take it slow. </p><p>By the way, if he was surprised your targets are all characters from Sesame Street he definitely didn’t show it and you’re thankful for that. No need to share that childhood trauma just yet, you decide, worried he’ll just make fun of you when you tell him those puppets used to scare you shitless when you were a kid.</p><p>You raise your arm then, your muscles only tensing up after a second or so when your mind makes the decision to make the throw. The knife flips through the air at an incredible speed and lands blade-first in the target, one ring off centre. </p><p>He lets out a low whistle somewhere next to you. “Nice,”</p><p>“Thank you,” you reply with a smile, surprised at your own capabilities. </p><p>“Alright,” he says, walking over to the target and moving it back a little before he pulls the knife out, “let’s try that again.”</p><p>=X=X=</p><p>He has you walking around the compound with a plastic knife almost 24/7, showing you some tricks at the end of the first lesson and telling you to master them by lesson number two or he will stop teaching you. And so here you are, flipping around a fake knife, letting it twist and turn between your fingers, ever so often throwing it up in the air, trying to catch it while you change position, trying to predict where the handle will be once it lands in your hand. </p><p>Thank God he gave you a plastic one or you'd be a few fingers short by now.</p><p>The next lesson is scheduled for Monday, after you both agreed one lesson a week wouldn't be enough to get you into shape. And while the knife throwing was fun, and you were surprisingly good at it, it's the actual hand-to-hand combat you're most looking forward to. You’ve seen him in action only once, on some footage Tony showed you, but you remember being in awe of his skills.</p><p>By Sunday you have mastered most of the tricks he’s showed you, except one, where you’re holding the knife in your right hand while blocking an invisible attacker with your left. During the block you’re supposed to throw the knife up, while at the same time retracting the arm you’re blocking with, only to catch the knife again with your right hand, but at the same height where your left arm was before.</p><p>You just can’t get it right. Either you use too much force so the knife is too high up for you to catch or you forget to retract your arm so the knife bounces against it and falls to the floor. You’ve gone from quietly cursing to cursing out loud, growing more and more frustrated by the hour. You’re glad the team’s away on a mission this weekend, so it's just you and some of the newer recruits left in the tower. They have their quarters on the lower levels and absolutely no reason to be up on your floor so you doubt they’ve heard you. </p><p>Taking a deep breath you decide to give it one last try, but just as you want to throw the knife you hear the Quinjet coming in and so you’re distracted and mess up. You let out a frustrated groan, grab the knife off the floor and make your way to your room, not really in the mood to see anyone else. </p><p>=X=X=</p><p>“Alright, show me.” </p><p>It’s the first thing he’s said to you since you entered the gym a minute or so ago and so you quietly mutter, “Yeah fine, thanks. How are you? Sleep well?”</p><p>“How I sleep is none of your concern,” he grunts.</p><p>A bit taken aback by the tone in his voice you throw him a look. He seems unfazed by it, instead raising his eyebrows to let you know he’s waiting. You huff at whatever is going on and grab your knife, the plastic one, of course, and start the sequence you now know by heart.</p><p>You’re not sure what happens, maybe you’re too distracted by the mood he seems to be in, or maybe you just didn’t take enough time to focus on the task at hand, but fact is you blow every single trick. Not one of them goes as it should. If you were anyone else right now you’d be second-hand embarrassed. </p><p>Just as you bend down to pick up the knife from the ground you see him turn and walk away out of the corner of your eye. Standing up you call out to him, “Barnes?”</p><p>Of course he doesn’t respond and you figure, fine. Whatever. Fuck him and his attitude. You’re not going to need knife skills anyway. At least this means you’ll have the rest of the afternoon off. But then you remember that you’re not here to improve your knife skills, not really anyway. You’re here to help Hill get a date with Steve and so you let out a frustrated groan, drop the knife, and set out in a jog to catch up with him.</p><p>“Barnes,” you say, coming to a stop in front of him and putting a hand on his chest to get him to listen to you. Well fuck me, you think when you feel his hard muscles against your fingertips, you knew the guy was muscular from the way his clothes stretch around his torso, but to actually feel it is something else. You’re distracted for a moment but then you look up and find him looking down at you with a hint of a smile playing around his lips.</p><p>“I uh,” you clear your throat and pull back your hand, “I can do better than that. I promise.”</p><p>The smile drops and he actually sighs. “You don’t get a second chance in direct combat.”</p><p>“This isn’t direct combat,” you counter, starting to get annoyed. “This is me doing knife tricks. By myself. With a plastic fucking knife.”</p><p>“To prepare you for direct combat,” he replies, arms now crossed in front of his chest. “That’s what you wanted right? To be better prepared? Improve your skills?. </p><p>“Yeah, ok, fine.” you agree half-heartedly. “But unless you decide to attack me right now, there’s no direct combat in my foreseeable future. So, you know, can I least get a second chance?” A tilt of your head then, “I mean, that’s part of improving my skills, isn’t it? Doing something over and over and over again until I get it right?”</p><p>He actually looks a little defeated but impressed at the same time and you wonder if it is because people usually avoid confrontation with him, afraid of what he might do. He nods then, “Ok. Let’s go.” </p><p>He follows you back to the mat and this time you do focus, allowing yourself a few seconds to clear your mind from any distractions. The knife rests comfortably on your hand and after a quick countdown in your head you start. You nail trick after trick but when you get to the last one, the one you haven’t been able to master yet, you start to feel nervous and so of course you fail.</p><p>“Nice,” he compliments from somewhere on your right, his tone of voice now very different from  before. You wonder what brought that on, can’t just be your knife skills, right?</p><p>“That last one always gets me,” you admit, letting out a frustrated sigh then.</p><p>“That’s because you think about it too much,” he offers.</p><p>“No shit, Sherlock,” you mutter quietly, sitting down on the mat to catch your breath. You hear him rummage through his bag and don’t look up until he’s standing in front of you, holding out something that definitely isn’t made from plastic.</p><p>“Try this.”</p><p>You scoff, “You want me to try with a real knife?” Shaking your head then, “You better have a first-aid kit in that bag too then.” </p><p>“Come on,” he holds out his hand, hoisting you to your feet once you take it. “Just try it.” </p><p>Taking the knife from him you carefully place it on the tip of your index finger, trying to find its balance point. It’s not where you expect it to be, the blade almost weighing as much as the handle and the balance point not far off centre. Interesting. You throw the knife in the air to see what it does, surprised when it falls back down blade first. Huh. </p><p>“This might work,” you say, turning to him. You do a double take then, because is that admiration you see in his eyes? Weird.</p><p>“Go for it,” he says with a nod of his head, taking a step back to let you have your space.</p><p>Planting your feet firmly on the mat you take position, left arm straight out in front of you. A deep breath then, tightening the grip on the handle of the knife before you throw it, retract your arm, and catch it again. “Oh my God!”</p><p>“Yes!” he exclaims. “I knew you could do it!”</p><p>“Oh my God,” you say again, panting a little now from the excitement, “that was awesome!”</p><p>=X=X=</p><p>He lets you keep the knife. Tells you to keep practicing everything you’ve learned so far and so you do, ignoring the looks you get from everyone else whenever they see you entering a room while throwing a knife around. Strangely enough most of them are smiling, like they’re all in on this little secret you know nothing about. You decide to ignore them.</p><p>Maria finds you and your new arts and crafts project in the common room Wednesday evening. Bucky told you to make new targets, but smaller this time, so you opted to go with cut-outs of the Muppets. Ignoring the one you’re working on now, of Kermit the Frog with a target painted on his head, Maria sits down next to you, “Hey,”</p><p>“Hi,” you reply without looking up, too focused on finishing the smallest circle.</p><p>“I was just uh,” Maria says, her voice just above a whisper even though the common room is empty except for her and you, “I need a mission update, I guess.” </p><p>You let out a laugh, “Please don’t make this awkward.”</p><p>“Any more than it already is?” she counters with a grin.</p><p>“Yeah, ok, fair point.” You wipe your brush on an old cloth and set it aside, admiring your handy work.</p><p>“So?”</p><p>“So, he’s teaching me hand-to-hand combat twice a week,” you start, nodding towards the targets on the table. “I’d say it’s going well.” </p><p>“Right.”</p><p>“I can’t force this, Maria,” you say almost apologetically, “we’re not two giant pandas, you know? You can’t just put us together and expect us to mate.”</p><p>“That’s not,” she all but sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I know, ok? If you could maybe, step it up just a little?”</p><p>She must really like Steve, you figure, if she’s getting impatient after just a week. So you agree, “Ok,” gently patting her arm you try to reassure her, “I’ll see what I can do.”</p><p>=X=X=</p><p>You find the gym empty, which is weird for this time of day, but honestly right now it suits you just fine. You have twenty minutes before Barnes will join you for your training session and you want to get this out of your system before then. No need for him to see you like this. Although you're sure he already knows. Privacy is hard to come by here.</p><p>Setting up the target, you don’t bother replacing the Iron Man outline he must have used the last time he was here, because this time you might share whatever it is Barnes has against him. You grab the bag of knives you brought from the supply room before you make your way to the other end of the room and dump them on the floor unceremoniously by tipping the bag over. You take as many as you can hold into your hand and clear your mind, focusing on what you're about to do. There’s at least twenty feet between you and the target now, and while it takes you a few throws to get into the right rhythm, after a short while you’re hitting it throw after throw, more knives finding their way into the bull’s eye than during last week’s session. </p><p>You’d like to say it’s because you’ve been practicing, or simply because you’ve found out you’re a natural, but the truth of the matter is that you’re pissed off and anger has always been a good motivator for you.  </p><p>Barnes comes in early and so you’re still working through your anger when he joins you, your throws becoming more and more frantic, and a sheen of sweat covering your body. Must be quite the sight, you think, but at least he’s smart enough not to comment on it. The last knife finds its way a little off centre as it flies towards the target, and like his did last week, it hits the handle of one of the knives already there before it bounces off and lands on the ground.</p><p>Using your shirt you wipe some of the sweat off your face and set out to collect your knives so you can start your training session, when suddenly you feel his hand on your arm, holding you in place. </p><p>“You ok?” </p><p>You let your eyes fall to his hand before you look up at him. People have told you you tend to look like you’re about to hurt someone at any given time but you guess you really must be shooting daggers now, because he actually lets go of you and takes a step back. </p><p>His hands go up in defence, but he actually looks worried, “That bad, huh?”</p><p>Some of your anger resolves then, because fuck, this is Barnes, the guy’s lived through enough to not have to bear the brunt of your anger, and so you shake your head, “Not really.” Then, as an afterthought, “Don’t worry about it, Barnes.”</p><p>“Bucky,”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Barnes is reserved for when I’m at work,” he grins, “just call me Bucky.” </p><p>You’re about to tell him, “Ok,” but there’s a group of recruits coming in then, talking loudly until they spot you, their voices quieting down almost instantly, and so you keep quiet too. You throw them what you hope is a look that tells them to mind their own fucking business. You have a reputation to uphold after all. </p><p>He just stares at them from over your shoulder, shaking his head before he looks back at you. “Come on,” he says then, motioning for you to follow him as he walks towards the target and collects the knives, dropping the bag off at the locker room door, muttering something about getting that later. </p><p>As you throw one last look over your shoulder you see Nat coming in, who winks at you before she tells the recruits to stop glaring and get into position. You smile back at her before you follow him to one of the side doors that leads directly outside. The sunlight has you blinking as you try to adjust your eyes, the warmth of the afternoon sun a welcome change from the cooler temperature inside the gym. </p><p>He turns around and asks you the same question again, “You ok?”</p><p>You nod this time, because you feel a bit better already, “Getting there.” </p><p>He motions for you to sit down on the grass and when you do he joins you, sitting down so he’s facing you, pulling his knees up and letting his wrists rest on top of them, his hands playing with a dandelion he picked just moments earlier. He looks at you then, “Does this have anything to do with Steve having to join you on your next mission?”</p><p>“Babysitting me, you mean?” </p><p>He chuckles, “Yeah.” </p><p>Part of you doesn’t want to talk about it anymore than that, because this moping around feels safe and at least no one bothers you when you’re in one of your ‘moods’, as Nat likes to call them. Bucky seems genuinely worried about you though and so you start, “Tony and I have this deal,” you look up at him and see him nod, taking this as your cue to continue, “technically I’m part of the team, but I only do solo missions.”</p><p>“Because of Padua, right?”</p><p>“Right,” you reply. He must have heard what happened, and if he hasn’t he doesn’t ask about it so you don’t bother to explain any further. “Then this morning I get assigned a new mission only to find out in the briefing room that Tony wants Steve to fucking chaperone me!” You scoff, “Gave me some bullshit excuse about quality control, that they want to know if I’m still carrying out my missions to the set standard.” You curse quietly. </p><p>“Why?” Bucky seems as surprised as you are.</p><p>You sigh. “Last week I was on a mission to extract some files that supposedly link HYDRA to funding the 2016 presidential campaign,” you clear your throat, “I used explosives to draw my target out of his hiding place but apparently Tony thinks I blew up a civilian car just for shits and giggles, allowing my target to escape and causing substantial damage to a few public buildings while I was at it.”</p><p>“I know I made a mistake, ok? It’s not like I’ll do it again next time.” You sit up, “but now I don’t get to go on any solo missions until I prove my worth again.” You tut, “Fuck. Don’t get me wrong, I like really Steve, but I don’t need someone tagging along, watching my every move and then tell me what to do when I’ve been going at it alone for the last few years.”  </p><p>“Welcome to my world,” Bucky counters almost immediately and in such a deadpan manner you can’t help but laugh.  </p><p>=X=X=</p><p>“I’m working on it, Maria, ok?” you tell her before she even has a chance to say anything. She’s found you in the kitchen where you’re unloading the dishwasher rather aggressively because it’s your fucking turn today and God forbid you forget to do one of your chores around here. Thor, surprisingly, has already lectured you about the importance of taking your responsibilities seriously twice before, and that was just because you forgot to clean the lint out of the dryer after you used it, and you’re not sure you can make it through a third time without losing your damn mind. </p><p>She holds her hands up in defense, “Not what I was going to ask, but sure.”</p><p>“Sorry,” you try to smile at her, “rough day.” </p><p>“I know,” she replies. She leans against the counter, “I was just coming to see how you’re doing.” </p><p>She and Steve were in the briefing room with you when Tony told you about his plan and so she got to witness first-hand how you react when you feel betrayed by the two men you trust most. Tony likened it to a tantrum unprecedented by anything a two-year old has ever thrown. Steve never said anything but looked genuinely scared of you. So to say you’re surprised Maria’s even talking to you now is an understatement.</p><p>“I’m ok,” you admit, “my training session with Bucky turned into somewhat of a therapy session, so I got most of my anger out.”</p><p>She doesn’t say anything, just smiles.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Nothing,” she shakes her head and starts to walk away. Then she turns around, a mischievous grin playing on her lips, “But I guess Steve’s not the only one who gets to call him Bucky anymore.”</p><p>=X=X=</p><p>The mission was supposed to be simple. Fly in, gain access to the main server of the facility without making too many casualties, extract the files needed, and be back before dinner. On your own it would probably take around four hours on site and so you figured now that you’re with Steve you could get the job done in just under two. You might be wrong. </p><p>“Rogers?” you try again, pressing the comms unit into your ear a little more, “Rogers, report.” Nothing but static fills the air and you’re starting to get worried. He’s been silent for at least five minutes, and even though you agreed to split up so you could cover more ground faster, right now you wish you hadn’t. You decide to retract to your last shared location, but not before you try again, “Rogers, I have what we came for. Can you please report?”</p><p>Still nothing. </p><p>You let out a frustrated groan. Protocol says you should go back to the Quinjet, call for backup, and then wait it out until they arrive. Of course, you think to yourself, Captain fucking America could be dead by then but at least you’ll have followed protocol. Tony would be so proud. You check your gun, confirming what you already knew, still fifteen rounds left and so you make a quick decision, muttering a quiet, “Fuck protocol.” before you set off to where you last saw Steve.</p><p>There's some static coming through then, followed by a stern, “Language.” </p><p>=X=X=</p><p>“I’ll let Tony know you’re perfectly capable of going out on your own,” Steve says as he turns to you after he’s put the Quinjet on autopilot.</p><p>“Thank you,” you reply. There's venom dripping through your voice and even though it really isn’t aimed at him you can see Steve physically recoil. Great. Now you’ve upset Captain America. This might be worse than getting him killed. </p><p>Besides Nat, Steve is the one you’re closest too, not in the least because he’s the one who convinced you to join all those years ago on his first ever recruitment mission. And while Nat was the one who got him up to speed with modern technology after he got defrosted, you were the one who supplied him with endless lists. Lists of what movies to watch, which albums to listen to, and books you thought he’d like to read. Then, for every year he missed you made a recap, collecting them all in a binder that you handed him on his first birthday after he came out of the ice. </p><p>And while Nat always bears the brunt of your moods in stride, up until now you’ve always been careful not to be too bad-tempered around Steve. It’s hard to pinpoint why, but you guess it’s because he’s so sweet-natured that you’d feel embarrassed if he’d ever did see you lose it, even though he did get a taste of it in the conference room earlier this week, you remind yourself. Woo, boy. Not good.</p><p>“Sorry about that,” you say, your voice much softer now. </p><p>“It’s ok,” he says, because of course he does. </p><p>“It’s just-” you sigh. You don’t want to sound like a whiny brat, but it still upsets you you’re being supervised, “I don’t know. It feels like Tony has it out for me for some reason.” </p><p>“Listen, don’t be too hard on Tony, ok?” Steve turns towards you with an apologetic smile. “Ross has been watching our every move for a while now, accusing us that we’re taking unnecessary risks and Tony just doesn’t want to take any chances.”</p><p>“Noted,” you reply with nod. You lean back in your chair, watching Steve out of the corner of your eye. He really is one of the good guys, you think, determined then to do whatever you can to make sure Maria can ask him out on a date. They both deserve some happiness, you decide. </p><p>=X=X=</p><p>You don’t see Bucky until next Monday, the mission you went on with Steve having interfered with your Thursday session. By now you’ve moved on to actual hand-to-hand combat after you passed some sort of knife-throwing exam he had you go through at the start of the afternoon. </p><p>“Alright,” he says as he gathers his hair and ties it into a loose bun at the base of his neck. “We’ll run through it together. Half-speed, ok?”</p><p>“Ok.” You resume your position, back towards him so he can attack you from behind after he’s explained exactly what you’re supposed to do to actually block his attack this time. Taking deep breaths to prepare you for the inevitable even though you know what’s coming he still surprises you when he suddenly grabs you. </p><p>Remembering what he’s told you, you grab a hold of the hand that’s holding your neck, while at the same time you turn around, mimicking a punch with your other hand, before your almost kick him in the goods. </p><p>“Good,” he says with a grin. “We’re going to try that again, but full-speed and no holding back this time, ok?”</p><p>“You sure?” you counter with a sly smile, eyeing the loose sweatpants he’s wearing. </p><p>“Very,”</p><p>You shrug, “Alright, let’s do it.”</p><p>He has you walking from one end of the gym to the other, so the attack will even be more of a surprise and you’re almost at the halfway point when you feel his hand on your neck. His grip is tighter than it was before, letting you know you’re playing for keeps now. </p><p>You repeat the motions you’ve come to memorize, actually punching him this time, but hesitate when you lift your foot up to kick him. </p><p>He takes advantage of your momentary distraction and hooks his leg behind yours, taking you down in one swift move. You’re on your back before you know it, his arm across your chest to hold you in place. There’s a gleam in his eye when he says, “Should have gone for the goods, sweetheart.” </p><p>“Speaking about goods,” you say with a wink, letting your eyes drop to where his arm is draped across your chest before you look back up at him again, “you just skipped first base and went straight to second, Barnes. I’d say you owe me a drink for that.” </p><p>“Oh shit,” he mutters, quickly pushing himself off. His cheeks are slightly more red when he holds out his hand to you to help you to your feet. “I’m sorry-”</p><p>“It’s ok,” you reassure him, because you can tell he’s genuinely upset. He still doesn’t look convinced so you try again, “Really, Bucky, don’t worry about it.”</p><p>He smiles then before he gently pushes you towards the locker room, “Let me at least buy you that drink some time then.”</p><p>=X=X=</p><p>“Hello, Petra,” Nat says with a grin as she joins you in the locker room of the shooting range. This is the way she always greets you before your Sunday afternoon session and so you know what comes next in her spiel, “Make anyone cry today?”</p><p>“Sadly, no.” You look up at her and wink, “But it is only four-thirty.” </p><p>She laughs, “Atta girl.”</p><p>Opening your locker you take out the Glock 17 that you’ve had ever since you started in this business. It’s lightweight and easy to take care of, and even though you have tried several other guns you always come back to this one. Clicking the chamber in place you check that the safety’s on before you tuck it into the holster that’s around your thigh. </p><p>“Hey Nat,” you say, letting the protective earmuffs you’ve just taken out of your locker hang around your neck as you close the door and let the combination lock hang loose - there’s nothing of value in there now anyway. </p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Just exactly how much of I date do I need to go on with Bucky before Hill can ask Steve out?” you ask, arms folded in front of your chest as you wait for her to get ready. </p><p>“Why?” </p><p>“We’re going out for drinks Friday evening,” you say, a little surprised that you’re actually looking forward to spending some time with him without anyone else around. “So, I don’t know, maybe that’s enough?”</p><p>She holsters her gun and catches up with you at the door before you walk to the firing lanes together. She turns to you then, a sly smile playing around her lips, “If you can get him to go to Tony’s party with you next weekend-”</p><p>“Oh please,” you scoff, “consider it done.”</p><p>“- and report back to me when he does, then I’ll let Hill know she can ask Steve to be her date.” </p><p>=X=X=</p><p>During Thursday’s training session he wants to test your endurance which he claims is for scientific reasons but you think is just to piss you off. He sets out to have you to do five Cooper tests in a row and even though you suggested going outside, he argued the treadmill would give him more accurate results and so here you are, on the piece of workout equipment you loathe more than anything. To say that by now you’re in a bad mood would be an understatement. </p><p>The first two twelve-minute runs were fine, you managed 2,5k both times, although the second one was definitely a challenge. He’s relentless though and so now you’re already halfway through your third test, cursing and sweating while he’s standing there, stopwatch in hand, encouraging you to keep going with a shit-eating grin. You'd like to be able to say that after a while you find your rhythm, that it gets easier, but the truth of the matter is you hate every second of it and so once your time is up you step off the treadmill and reach for your water bottle.</p><p>“Two more,” he says from somewhere behind you, “come on.” </p><p>“No thanks. I’m done.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he stands in front of you now, hands on his hips, “what?”</p><p>“I’m done,” you repeat before you take another sip of water. “I hate running. Passionately. Like, I firmly believe people should only run as a child or when they’re being chased.” You look up at him, “And right now, I’m neither.” </p><p>He tries to keep a straight face but he fails and laughs, “Can’t argue with that logic.”</p><p>“Thank you,” you reply with a smile. Small victories and all that. </p><p>“You are amazingly self-assured, has anyone ever told you that?” </p><p>You shrug, “I tell myself that every day, actually.”</p><p>He shakes his head and dismisses you with a wave of his hand, “Go. Hit the shower.” He laughs then, “We’re done for today.” </p><p>“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” you ask as you grab your towel and water bottle. </p><p>“Yup,” he nods, “I’ll meet you out front at eight.”</p><p>=X=X=</p><p>“Ooooh, someone’s got a hot date tonight,” Natasha calls from across her room. </p><p>You throw her what you hope is a death glare, making your way to her closet without even asking for permission. You locate what you came here for within seconds, pulling them out with a triumphant, “Ha!”</p><p>“Sure. Of course you I’ll lend my black biker boots,” Nat says, her voice laced with sarcasm, “no need to ask.”</p><p>“You’re the whole reason I’m even going on this date,” you bite back, “I’d say you owe me one.” You sit down next to her on the couch, putting on the socks you brought along before you squeeze into the boots. </p><p>“Come on,” she claps her hands once you zip them up. “Let’s see the look.” </p><p>You stand up, not giving her the twirl she’s asking for out of spite. You’re wearing a simple grey top, paired with black jeans and Nat’s biker boots. “I figure I’d wear that jean jacket with it?”</p><p>“Ugh, no,” Nat scrunches her nose in disgust. She gets up then and starts rummaging through her closet, pulling out a black leather jacket not much later. She thrusts it into your hands, “here.”</p><p>“Thanks,” you say, and you mean it. It completes the look perfectly and you throw her a kiss before you head back to your room again.</p><p>“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she calls after you. </p><p>You let out a laugh and yell back, “Already doing it!”</p><p>=X=X=</p><p>He’s making you wear a helmet that covers most of your face, which is a good thing because you’re sure you’re looking like an absolute idiot, grinning from ear to ear ever since you climbed onto the motorbike about an hour ago. Your arms are wrapped around his waist, even though your hands never quite meet. Your chin is level with his shoulder as you take in the winding road you’re driving on, admiring the beautiful surroundings. It’s still warm outside and so the wind that accompanies you while you’re driving is actually pleasant. </p><p>There’s this weird feeling in the pit of your stomach, like you could start crying at any moment even though there’s no reason to, and you wonder if this is what happiness feels like. He turns into a sideroad then, pointing to a building a little further down the road and so you don’t really have a chance to explore whatever it is you’re feeling, now curious to see where he’s taking you.</p><p>The building turns out to be a pub which, from the outside, looks like it has seen better days. He parks the bike right out front, and waits for you to get off before he lets it settle on the kickstand and joins you on the curb.</p><p>“That was amazing,” you say as you hand your helmet to him.</p><p>He just smiles, running a hand through his hair to get it back into shape. “Come on,” he says as he nods towards the door.</p><p>You’re a little hesitant, because the place definitely looks worse for wear, but then you follow him inside and a quiet, “Wow,” escapes you. It looks like time has stood still here, but in a good way, the wood of the bar and the tables and the stools polished to a shine, the floor looking like it was put in just yesterday, and the decor flawless.</p><p>A few other people are scattered across the room, two of them sitting at the bar but not together. Must be regulars, you figure, because it’s definitely that kind of place. Bucky leads you to a table in the far corner, waiting for you to sit down before he does the same. “This place is stunning,” you say as you look around you, taking it all in. The walls are covered in black and white pictures, mostly men in uniform with big smiles on their faces.</p><p>“You should be able to find me and the boys in here somewhere,” Bucky says with a sad smile, nodding towards the frames, “I remember they took our picture right before we were shipped off to Europe.” His eyebrows knit together then and he seems a little lost in his own thoughts for a moment.</p><p>Even if you wanted to ask him about it, you can’t, because it’s then the bartender joins you at your table and asks what he can get you. You order a Heineken, while Bucky gets a coffee because he still has to drive back.</p><p>“Promise me you’ll at least let me offer you a beer when we get back then?” you ask. </p><p>“Sure,” he says with a grin.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You’re actually a lot nicer than people make you out to be.” The bartender’s back then, and Bucky waits until he’s put the drinks on the table and is back at the bar before he continues, “I guess we both have a reputation, huh?”</p><p>“Yeah,” you nod solemnly, because yes, you do. You look back at him, “What’s your excuse?”   </p><p>“For?” </p><p>“Acting the way we do,” you say as you take a sip of your beer, hoping he won’t be offended by your question. </p><p>“I don’t like to do what people expect,” Bucky admits easily even though he doesn’t look at you instead turning his coffee cup around on the saucer. Then, with a shrug, “Why should I live up to other people’s expectations instead of my own? </p><p>You smile, “So you disappoint them from the start and then you’re covered, right?” </p><p>“Something like that,” he agrees. He looks up at you then, “What about you?”</p><p>“Same, I guess.” </p><p>He stretches out his legs and gently kicks your foot under the table, “Then you screwed up.”</p><p>You’re in the middle of taking a sip of your beer and so it takes you a second to reply, “How?”</p><p>“You never disappointed me.” </p><p>=X=X=</p><p>He takes the long way home after you told him how much you love it on the bike and so you don’t get back to the compound until it’s almost midnight where you both agree to take a rain check on that beer you’ve offered him. </p><p>You’re a little stiff from being seated for so long and so you lean heavy on him to get off the bike, letting out a groan when you toss your leg over. The visor of his helmet’s up and even though you can only see the laughter lines in the corners of his eyes when he looks at you from over his shoulder, it isn’t hard to imagine the smile that usually goes along with it. </p><p>You hand him your helmet and watch as he places them in one the racks that line the walls of this particular garage. There are a dozen or so other motorbikes in here, and you recognize the one that belongs to Nat, a vicious machine custom built to suit her needs. You prefer Bucky’s bike though, a Triumph ‘64, which honestly you only know because he told you earlier tonight. </p><p>Once he’s finished putting everything back where it belongs he joins you and together you walk to the elevator bay. For a moment you worry about running into someone, about rumours being spread as so often happens around here, but it’s late and the hallways are empty and so it’s just you and him. </p><p>Once the elevator dings to let you know you’ve arrived on your floor you start to say your goodbyes, because he’s one floor above you, but he cuts you off, “I’ll walk you to your door, come on.”</p><p>“Thank you.” You look up at him, “For tonight, I mean. I really had a good time.” </p><p>He nods, “Yeah, me too.”</p><p>You arrive at your room then, and so now it’s a little awkward. He’s standing next to you, hands in the pockets of his jeans, eyes darting across the hallway. You punch in your access code on the keypad that’s mounted to the wall and wait for it to unlock before you push the door open, turning to him when you do.</p><p>Placing one hand on his shoulder for balance you stand on your toes and gently kiss his cheek, “Goodnight, Bucky.” </p><p>He nods, smiling then, “Goodnight.” </p><p>You watch him as he starts to walk away, hands still in the pockets of his jeans but his head held a little higher now. “Hey, Bucky?” </p><p>He turns around, a curious look passing over his face, “Yeah?”</p><p>You take a deep breath, actually feeling a little nervous? Weird. “I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go to Tony’s party with me?” </p><p>He’s quiet for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed, and you want to tell him, never mind, because you know he never really goes to these sort of things, but he surprises you, “I’d like that.”</p><p>=X=X=</p><p>You’re not sure what happened because he wasn’t supposed to be there. The shooting range is not where he usually hangs out on Sunday afternoons, which you know because you’ve never seen him there during your sessions with Nat before. And so it’s what you keep telling yourself as you go after him. He wasn’t supposed to be there.</p><p>You can see him ahead of you, walking with that murder strut you know from the footage you’ve seen of him when people still called him The Winter Soldier. He looks menacing even from behind with his shoulder squared and you actually have to start running if you ever want to catch up with him. The irony of that, what with his fucking Cooper test last week, is not lost on you, thank you very much. </p><p>You hear Nat and Maria call something at you but you’re too far away and so you hold up your hand to let them know you didn’t get any of it. It doesn’t matter anyway, all you need to do right now is catch up with Bucky and explain. He’s only about thirty or so feet ahead of you and so you step it up and set into a sprint down the long hallway. </p><p>“Bucky, stop!” You’re panting now, coming to a halt in front of him.</p><p>For a moment it looks like he’s about to walk straight through you, but you hold your ground, finding his eyes to let him know you’re not budging. You expect him to look angry, or maybe even ready to kill well, you, but he actually looks hurt which makes it ten times worse. It makes you want to cry. </p><p>“Fuck,” you mutter quietly, because you’re more out of breath than you’d like to admit, a sheen of sweat covering your face while you try to catch your breath. </p><p>“Is it true?” His voice is low and it’s not that you’re scared of him per se, but now you understand why people tend to avoid him. If you didn’t know any better you’d probably do to. He might look hurt, but he sounds fucking dangerous. </p><p>“Yes.” No point in lying, you decided when you went after him. You’re not here to give him excuses, you're here to tell him the truth. If he’ll let you of course. </p><p>“So you only went out with me as a favour to Hill?”</p><p>You contemplate your answer for a moment, but it looks like the damage is already done and so there’s really no use trying to defend yourself, “That’s not the full story, but yes.” </p><p>He steps around you then, “We’re done.”</p><p> </p><p>=X=X=</p><p>There have been a few curious looks from the group of recruits Nat trains on Monday afternoon, some of the hushed conversation reaching you where you sit against the wall. They wonder why you’re here and he’s not, because did something happen to him? Did you guys have a fight? They always knew you were a bitch anyway. You’re about to tell them to stop it, but then Nat does it for you and so you’re once again left alone with your thoughts. </p><p>Because did you really think he’d show up for your training session after what happened yesterday? Of course not. </p><p>Still, here you are, waiting until the two hours you’d normally spend training together are over, like some sort of act of penance. Not that it’ll do you any good, but you’ve always been a bit of a martyr and so this suits you just fine. </p><p>Nat has offered to go talk to him, explain him that this was all her idea and that while it maybe started out as a project for you, you ended up really liking him. You doubt it’ll do any good and so you’ve told her not to bother after you made her promise that Maria gets to ask Steve out on a date, because you really want to at least have one good thing come out of this. </p><p>A quick glance at your watch tells you your two hours are finally up and so you push yourself up with a sigh, ready to head back to your room. You run into Maria in the locker room but she just smiles at you, knowing it’s best to leave you alone right now. </p><p>=X=X=</p><p>Tony has you working on translating some French documents and so that takes your mind off of things for a while. The work is boring and not really what you signed up for when you joined, but at least you’re doing your part and he seems genuinely happy when you hand him the translated files already Wednesday afternoon. He doesn’t make you leave his office until you’ve pinky-promised him you’ll come to his party on Saturday and you wonder just how much he knows about what’s going on between you and Bucky. Probably everything, you think, because that’s just the way things work around here.</p><p>By Thursday morning you’ve decided to change your tactics and so you set out on an active search to find Bucky, hoping he’s calmed down enough to let you tell your side of the story. The compound is big and so it takes you a couple of hours to make you rounds but you still can’t find him. You wonder if he’s purposely avoiding you or if he really isn’t here. </p><p>It isn’t until you run into Pepper and she informs you he’s picking up supplies with Sam somewhere in Canada that you start to worry this might never get resolved. On your question if they’ll be back by Saturday comes an evasive answer from Pepper and so you’re still not in the best of moods when the big night’s finally here.</p><p>=X=X=</p><p>You’re in a corner somewhere, nursing some Asgardian liquor Thor told you would help take your mind off of things even though all you’re experiencing so far is feeling a little light-headed. You’re watching the crowds, smiling when you see Steve and Maria talking, heads close together, her hand on his forearm. At least that worked out, you think to yourself,  your smile turning into a frown then when you scan the room but still don’t see Sam or Bucky, a quiet, “Fuck,” escaping you. </p><p>“Can you at least try to look as if you’re enjoying yourself?” </p><p>“Can you at least try to mind your own fucking business,” you bite back at her, before taking a sip of your drink. It burns in your throat but you don’t really care because why would you?</p><p>“Ooh, see that, there,” Nat says with a grin, “Who needs affection when I have blind hatred?”</p><p>“I’m glad you think this is funny,” you mutter. You’re not being fair and you know it, but still. It feels good to blame someone other than yourself for this shitshow. </p><p>“I told you I’d take care of, didn’t I?” She says, bumping her shoulder against yours before she takes a sip of her drink. </p><p>“Nat,” you whine, “I told you not to.”</p><p>She scoffs, “Like I’d listen to you.” A nod of her head then, “There’s someone waiting for you on the balcony.”</p><p>You follow her gaze and your heart skips a beat, because there he is. “Shit,” you mutter quietly. Your voice a little louder then, as you turn to her, “What makes you think he’d even listen to me?”</p><p>“Because I told him to,” she says matter-of-factly. She takes your glass from you and gently pushes you forward, “Go.” </p><p>Taking a deep breath you cross the room, focused only on him even though you see Maria laugh at something Steve says out of the corner of your eye. You remember something then and so you stop at the bar, helping yourself to two bottles of beer from the fridge that you open before you continue. You hesitate when you get to the door, but then it’s like your body has a mind of its own and before you realize it you’re stepping outside, standing next to him, “Hi.”</p><p>“Hey,” </p><p>“I still owe you that beer,” you say as you hold out a bottle to him, your voice a little high-pitched because fuck, you’re actually nervous.  </p><p>He takes it but doesn’t say anything and you start to think this has been a mistake. But no, you want to at least try and you really have nothing to lose, so you turn towards him, clearing your throat before you start, “I’m sorry.” </p><p>He just nods.</p><p>“Someone asked me to take this really great guy out on a date-” </p><p>“Is that right?”</p><p>“Yeah,” you step in front of him now, looking up at him, surprised when he locks eyes with you and he doesn’t look as mad as you expected him to be. “I screwed up. I uh-,” you try to smile, “I fell for him. But I think he ended up hating me.” Biting your lip you look down, waiting for, well, you’re not sure what. </p><p>“I don’t hate you.” His voice is barely above a whisper and you’re not sure you’ve heard him right, but then his finger’s under your chin, making you look up at him, “I don’t. I hated what you did, but,” he smiles then, nodding towards where Steve and Maria are seated, “I guess it was for a good cause. And I realized I probably would have done the same for Steve.”</p><p>“Oh, thank God,” you whisper, a sigh of relief then, a little disappointed when he lets his hand drop.</p><p>“I still think you owe me a beer though,” he says with a grin, before he finishes the one he has in his hand.</p><p>“More than one, I’d say,” you offer. Then, a little braver than you feel, but fuck it, “There are some cold ones in my fridge if you wanna get out of here.”</p><p>He throws his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close, his voice low when he says, “Thought you’d never ask.”</p><p>=X=X=</p><p>
  <strong>EPILOGUE</strong>
</p><p>You find him in the garage, bits and pieces from a motorbike he’s restoring spread out on the floor and on the workbench he’s standing at. He looks focused and so you wait until he’s finished tinkering with one particular piece until you greet him.</p><p>He wipes his hands on a piece of cloth before he turns to you, hands cupping your face before he brushes his lips against yours, “Hey.”</p><p>Smiling into the kiss you sneak one hand into his hair and pull him closer, opening your mouth just enough for him to bite your lip. You moan and his hands move to your hips, lifting you onto the workbench with ease. Parting your legs so he can stand between them he you feel him press against you and you know you’ll be making your way upstairs soon. You pull back ever so slightly, making him groan at the loss of contact, but you just smile, “I have something for you.” </p><p>“Is it better than what we were doing?” He looks at you intently, “Otherwise I’d much rather just go back to that.” </p><p>“Here,” you say, ignoring his comment. You hand him the package and watch as he carefully unwraps it. His eyes light up when he turns the frame around and sees the picture that’s inside.</p><p>“How did you get this?”</p><p>“I asked nicely,” you say with a shrug, watching him as he studies the picture that until yesterday was hanging on the wall at the pub he took you to on what you consider to have been your first date. </p><p>“Thank you,” </p><p>“Happy one-year anniversary, babe,” you say before your grab his shirt and pull him close, your lips ghosting over his, “Love you.” </p><p>“Love you too.”</p><p>
  <strong>- FIN - </strong>
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